


Road to a Prophet

by MoonisthenewKira



Series: The New Prophet [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: All pairings are stated but not established until the story really gets rolling, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But they're relevent and not candy for canon characters, From Changing Channels to current, Gen, Multi, OCs galore, Rating May Change, So many tags, This is also part of a series that I'm in the middle of, This is going to be slow to start, Wow tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonisthenewKira/pseuds/MoonisthenewKira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Apocalypse looms, Sam and Dean race to stop it. Along the way, old and new faces emerge and unlikely allies are made. As time passes, Apocalypses adverted, angels fall, and a new Prophet is needed. From the first Apocalypse to now, this is the road to finding the next Prophet of the Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Dean, get this. Dickens, Texas. Livestock missing or found torn apart. No blood."

Dean looks over, “Chupacabra?”

                “Maybe. Ranchers are saying a pack of wolves.”

                “We should go check it out. If it is just a normal wolf pack then we can try and gank ‘em.”

                “Dean, the town will be crawling with wolf hunters, professional non-supernatural wolf hunters. Why would we even try?”

                “There’s a reward, right? For killing the wolves?”

                “Yeah but—“

                “No buts Samantha, we try and get the wolves, or the chupe, get the reward and head to Tombstone.”

                “Speaking of Tombstone, do we need any more salt rounds or iron pellets?”

                Dean rummages through their bags, “Nah I think we’re good. We got some new bottles of lighter fluid too and three giant bags of rock salt in the trunk. We got regular bullets but we’ll need more silver bullets.”

                Sam nods and it down on a growing list of items to get at the next hunters’ store.

                “Get some sleep, we ride at dawn.”

                “Dammit Dean.”  
               

* * *

 

“Calypso! Where are the iron pellets?”

“Last time I checked they’re by the wolfsbane.”

“Why the _fuck_ are they there?!”

“Language.” Calypso sighs and enters the storeroom, “Artemis, this is a chupe hunt. Regular bullets work fine.”

                “But aren’t we goin’ to Tombstone?”

                “‘Mis, we live right here. It’s not like we need to go straight to Tombstone after this.”

                “Cal…is this really a Chupacabra?”

                “All signs lead to a chupe. What else could it be?”

                “Could be wolves. Chupes don’t normally hunt in packs.”

                “It _is_ the Apocalypse.”

                “Looks, just because one guy-“

                “One _angel_.” Calypso argues.

                “-one angel said it was the end of days doesn’t mean it’s true. The guy even said he’s been off Heaven’s payroll for a long time. He sells _souls_ for God’s sake!”

                “And you slept with him.”

                Artemis glares at Calypso, “that’s beside the point.”

                The elder girl sighs, “Whether it’s the Apocalypse or not, you have to admit weird shit’s goin’ down all over the place.”

                “You make it seem like we’re the only hunters, sister. It’s just a routine chupe hunt, we’ve killed tons of ‘em. And if there’s more than one, there’s more than one. They’re a bit better than a pack of werewolves and definitely the easiest hunt other than a salt-n-burn.”

                “I _know_ we ain’t the only hunters, some will be passin’ through towards Tombstone. Place is crawling with spirits.”

                “Spirit hunts are best done in large groups, I know.”

                “Damn right you know. Let’s do this. Gas and salt in the truck already?”

                “You know it. Rifles have been ready since last night and our ammo’s in the case.”

                Calypso grins and puts her hair back into a ponytail. She grabs her gun, a sleek Remington Magnum-a gift for Christmas from some estranged relative or another- before making her way to the garage of their ranch estate. Artemis follows her older sister, carrying her .22 semi-automatic Thompson.

 

* * *

               

                The two groups of hunters meet outside the edge of the town, where the last ranch ends and the expanse of the desert begins. Their meeting isn’t on the nicest terms as Artemis nearly shoots Sam in the head.

                “Woah! Watch it!”

                Artemis refuses to put the gun down, “Name and business. Not that it’s goin’ ta make a difference after I blow your brains out.” Behind her, Calypso pulls out a modified Swiss Army Knife equipped with a silver, iron, and demon blade.

                Sam looks over at Dean, “We’re hunters.”

                Calypso sees her chance to speak, “Ain’t nothin’ worth hunting here, boys.  Now tell us who you really are.”

                The males share a glance before Dean speaks, “Sam and Dean.”

                “Last names too, honey.” The term of endearment is purred out with a bit too much sweetness for the raspy voice of Calypso.

                “Winchester.”

                Artemis readies her gun, “I call bullshit.”

                A wispy growl breaks the concentration of the four, “Shit! If you’re really who you say you are, help us with these chupes!” A pack of three chupacabra bounds out of the thin brush, circling the group. The leader lunges for Artemis, who shows her namesake as she shoots it right in the heart. It hits the ground with a sickening crunch of bone and dried foliage.

                “Behind you!” Calypso calls while crouching, twirling to stab an oncoming chupacabra in the neck. She pulls the knife out only to throw it into the thigh of another.

                “How many are there?”

                “Obviously three.”

                A shot is heard from the brambles the Winchesters are in, “Yeah, no, not three!”

                Another two chupacabra pounce on Calypso, eliciting a squawk from the hunter. Three rounds go off as Artemis shoots the creatures off her sister.  

                “Fuck.” Calypso stands and nearly falls again, shirt ripped in various parts and covered in blood-both hers and the monsters’.

                “Cal!” Calypso shakes her head, there will be time to tend to wounds after the hunt. Artemis nods and scans the area, stance shifting slightly to announce a lull in action.

                “The amount of livestock depletion is not proportional to the number of chupes. Where did they all come from?”

                “Possibly from different areas?” Sam and Dean return from their edge of the brush, carrying three more carcasses.

                Calypso shakes her head, “No, we’re the only area affected. There have been no accounts from anywhere else about possible activity.”

                Once more, a growl sounds from the brambles, “Oh come on!” Dean yells, shooting blindly in the general direction of the noise. There’s a yelp and one last chupacabra limps out, mouth frothing. Artemis ends it with a quick shot to the head. They stand, panting, surrounded by nine corpses of blood -sucking canids.

                Wings flap from behind Dean and a gruff voice is heard, “You called?”

                “Yeah like twenty minutes ago! Dammit Cas where were you?” Dean seethes.

                Castiel tilts his head in his signature way, “I am in no way at your beck and call, Dean. I have other tasks to attend to besides managing your wellbeing. You were in no way going to be harmed so I saw no reason to arrive.”

                Both Calypso and Artemis stifle their laughter while Dean glares at the angel.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was only when the corpses were burning and Cas was long gone (the fact that the sisters didn’t comment about his sudden appearance and departure was never mentioned-“for the best” Sam whispered) that Dean decided it was time to actually get the names of the other two hunters,

                “So, who’re you?”

                Artemis stretches and leans over the fire, warming up as the night cools, “name’s Artemis. That’s my sister Calypso.” She kicks dirt over some wandering flames, “We’re the local hunters around these parts. Got a home and everything.”

                “Artemis!” Calypso scolds. Dean looks on in interest while Sam tries to keep the flames from spreading.

                “So, are ya’ll goin’ to Tombstone? A lot of hunters are headin’ there.”

                “Yeah, we stopped by here on the way since Sam said there was a case.”

                “Well thanks. We wouldn’t have been able ta deal with all these chupes on our own. Have you boys got a room for the night?”

                Sam and Dean look at each other sheepishly, “all of the inn were filled with other hunters. We were going to go further towards Tombstone and find one there.” Sam looks down at himself and grimaces, “We weren’t planning on so many.”

                “Didn’t think you would get this dirty, huh? Well, welcome to Texas, we go all out!” Calypso lets out a barking laugh, bitterness hidden inside the mirth. The four stay around the flames until they die out.

                Calypso turns to Sam in the darkness, “You come with us, clean up, then go on your way. We’ll need to get our shit together for Tombstone as well. We got hot water and spare rooms.”

                “You can’t be serious! Cal we barely know ‘em!” Artemis protests.

                “They helped us take out a fuckton of chupes, ‘Mis. We can cook something nice, thank ‘em for not letting us become monster chow.” Calypso gives a slight chin tilt up and her sister’s eyes widen minutely.

                Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam who shrugs in response, “That’s all nice and good, girls, but I think we can handle our own. It’s not the first time we’ve been covered in guts.”

                Artemis quickly glances up at the sky before turning her attention to Dean, “We insist, we have more beds than we know what to do with. It’s still a ten hour drive from here to Tombstone. Enjoy a real bed.”

                “Our truck’s just off the road, you might’ve seen it. You can follow us back.”

                “You seem awfully ready to head out, what’s the deal.” Dean steps forward and the other two stiffen.

                “We’ll explain when we _get back_ ,” Artemis hisses. “There are just some things that you don’t go and mess with, angel boyfriend or not,” she gives Dean a pointed glare and he sputters, much to Sam’s amusement, “and one of those things is comin’ up and comin’ up fast so let’s get the hell outta Dodge.” She pulls Calypso backwards, “we good?” The older hunter shakes her head, muttering under her breath. Artemis nods and all but drags the Winchesters to their car, “wait. Here.” She leaves and returns a moment later, this time with her sister.

                “Follow us, and don’t get lost.” She slides into the driver’s seat of a silver 1990 Ford F-150 and revs up the engine, Dean in the Impala following close.

 

* * *

 

The house of the sisters is a standard ranch establishment, a large main house surrounded by about four hundred acres. Artemis pulls the truck up in front, and they get out. Calypso opens the main door and ushers the other three in, “Artemis, show ‘em to their rooms why don’t ya? I’m gonna let the dogs in and start dinner. Well…” she looks at the clock. Two A.M. “Close enough. Chicken alright for ya, boys?” They nod, never ones to turn down a meal. Calypso opens the front door again and lets out a shrill whistle, and seconds later three large dogs bound inside. She rubs their heads and starts on dinner.

 

                “Right. So, we have four spare rooms on this floor. All of ‘em are also used as storage, so there are some strange things in ‘em. Touch ‘em if ya want, no promises that they won’t touch back. My sister and I are on the second floor. Showers are around the corner, food should be on in thirty. Anything else?” She tilts her head, “Oh, right. The dogs are giant sweethearts that will use their eyes to get any and all scraps. Any questions?”

                “Yeah, I have one. What the hell was happening back there?” Dean raises and eyebrow and the smaller female.

                Her face turns stern, “that is a question best addressed in a group. Get cleaned up, we’ll call when the food’s done.” She turns on her heel and goes to the kitchen, the dogs standing outside of the room with wagging tails.

                “Cal, lemme take over. Go shower and get new clothes, I can handle the food for the ten minutes it takes ya. What’re you makin’?” She wanders over to the stove, “smells good.”

                Calypso smiles, “we’re havin’ chicken alfredo. When the chicken’s almost done put the noodles in alright? I’ll be back in a sec.”

                “Hey, Cal.”

                Calypso turns her head, “Hm?”

                “They want to know.”

                “Then we tell them. He’s appeased, the ashes and smoke were enough this time.”

                “No promises for the next time?”

                “Next time we won’t have the distraction of others to stop us from making an acceptable offering.”

                “Why don’t we just kill him? We know how.”

                Calypso gives her sister a tired look, “because some things shouldn’t be messed with. Some things just shouldn’t be killed in order to keep the balance. You know that.”

                Artemis nods, “oh and Calypso?”

                “Yes?”

                “Dean’s totally banging that angel.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner is served in silence, both groups not ones for idle chatter. The only sounds at the table were those of food being eaten and dogs whining, particularly to Sam, with Dean swatting his brother for giving in. It was one of Calypso’s better dishes, even though Artemis helped with the chicken.

                Sam, sensing some tension, tries to start up an information session, “how did you know Cas was an angel?”

                Artemis’s held cocks to the side, “we’ve run into his kind before.” Her tone is final, signaling the topic closed. Sam doesn’t press.

 

* * *

 

                When everything was cleared up, the four moved to the main room. Sam sits on the couch and is quickly surrounded by wiggling dogs. He happily resigns himself to his furry fate.

Dean rolls his eyes and clears his throat, “so, mind explaining the hurry to get out of the site?”

                Artemis sighs, “before we explain, we need to ask you some questions.”

                “Woah, woah, I didn’t agree to twenty questions.”

                Sam looks up from the dogs, “Come on Dean, information for information. It’s a fair trade.”

                Calypso shrugs, “About as fair as it’ll get. Be glad you haven’t been asked to suck a dick in exchange for information.” She shudders and the Winchesters look down.

                Her eyes widen, “wait, really? And both of you? Damn.” She shakes her head, “some people huh?” Artemis gives a bitter laugh from the background, “back to business, sister.”

                “Sam, you’re the smart one, do you know what the ‘balancing act of hunting’ is?” Sam’s eyes narrow in thought and his head tilts, adding to the image of a puppy.

                “No, I can’t say I do.”

                “Hm, well let me explain. It’s a rather new theory of hunting that the hunter is only to kill what is deemed a ‘total and uncontrollable threat to the population,’ like demons and satanic witches.”

                “Fucking hate witches,” Dean grumbles. The other three nod with various faces of disgust.

                “You’re in good company. But this theory is basically sayin’ that we can’t go in guns a-blazing and kill everything in sight. It also warns against killing gods unless they’re goin’ on rampages. They’re only around cause of people still believing in ‘em. Lose belief, they go nuts and you kill ‘em. That’s the basis, am I missing anythin’, ‘Mis?”

                “Nope, think you covered it all.”

                “What does this have to do with anything?” Dean growls.

                “We’re gettin’ there sweetheart, hold on.” Calypso gives him a cheeky grin that her sister rolls her eyes at.

                “Ever heard of Mixcoatl?”

                That gets Sam’s attention, “The Aztec god?”

                “The very same. He’s the god of the hunt in Aztec culture. Really doesn’t do much, but sometimes gives us more luck on tricky hunts. Now that I think about it…” Calypso tilts her head up, “he may have sent us all those chupes.”

                “Why would he do that?”

                “Dunno, I don’t try to understand the thought process of gods. I just say the prayer and hope he doesn’t kill us for an unsatisfactory sacrifice.”

                “So _that’s_ what was going on!”

                Calypso and Artemis nod, “yeah. Calypso is the only one that can speak Nahuatl. I’ve tried but I always fuck up.”

                “Nah-what-el?”

                Sam gives his brother a tired look, “Nahuatl, Dean. The language of the Aztecs.” He looks back to Calypso, “What exactly did you say?”

                “I can barely speak it, my conjugation and sentence structure is probably all wrong. But what I said was ‘itech nicpohua in Mixcoatl huentli’ or ‘I offer this as sacrifice to Mixcoatl.’ It’s a really, really rough translation, but it appeases him nonetheless.”

                Dean peers at them skeptically, “and you haven’t killed him.”

                Artemis frowns, “We’ve seen no reason to. He’s given his assistance and has accepted our offerings so far, that’s not really basis for puttin’ out a hit on him. There has to be a balance, you can’t kill too many, or the wrong ones. It’s going to bite you in the ass later. Though sometimes it’s a little ambiguous.”

                “Which one we talkin’ about? Balthazar or Loki?”

                “Loki!?” Dean screeches, sitting straighter.

                “Oh hush up, he helped us get a nasty necromancer. Got to ‘em first and had his summons rip him to pieces. I liked him.”

                “You just liked his sense of humor.”

                “And you don’t? He has a wicked sense of irony. A little short but his personality made up for that.”

                Dean glares at the girls, “do you know what he _does_?” he seethes.

                “Of course we do. He goes around and gives assholes their just desserts. Most times they end in death.”

                “And don’t you think that falls under the category of ‘threat to the public’?”

                 “He weeds out the asshole population. Cleans the gene pool. We didn’t see him as a threat. Seems like you boys did, though. Wanna share to the class?” Calypso smirks and leans closer to Dean.

                “Bastard trapped Sam in a time-loop where he killed me every day, then he more recently decided to put us through multiple types of TV shows for some bullshit reason.”

                Artemis tilts her head to the side, “Loki doesn’t do anything unless he knows it’s a good reason.”

                “Well his reason is a bullshit reason so I refuse to acknowledge it.”

                “Hmph. Suit yourself. He obviously left you alive for a reason, and a lesson like that isn’t to be taken lightly.”

                “Why does it matter?” Sam managed to get quite pale during this short discussion, and Calypso shoos the dogs off to sit next to him.

                “Sam, honey, you alright? You’re gettin’ pale.”

                “No I-I’m fine. Just uh, it’s nothing.”

                “Bull,” Dean scoffs, “what’s wrong.”

                “It’s nothing, Dean! I’m going to bed.” With that, Sam gets up and walks off, leaving startled dogs behind.

                “Sammy, wait, fuck, come on man,” he follows his brother out of the room, swearing the whole time.

                Artemis looks to Calypso, “We may struck a chord with Sam.” They flinch when yelling becomes audible in the room, “should we apologize? I think we triggered some nasty memories.”

                Calypso grimaces, “they need to work it out on their own. Somethin’ tells me Loki’s testin’ them in more ways than one.”

                “Why them?”

                An audible slap echoes through the house with a hoarse ‘FUCK’ following it, “they have to be important if that angel’s hanging around ‘em. They don’t play favorites.”

                “Mm, that they don’t… Sister,” Artemis looks around the room, “where did I put the iron?”    


	4. Chapter 4

Morning comes too quickly for Sam’s liking, especially when his wake up call is Dean throwing his bag on his body. He hasn’t apologized to Dean yet for his outburst last night, but he’s pretty sure his brother knows he didn’t mean it. The house is silent, save for the rustling of clothes and the sounds of packing for a hunt.

                Breakfast is used to make plans for the upcoming ghost bust. As he approaches, he takes the time to notice the sisters’ appearances. Artemis is on the side, letting her sister dominate the conversation with Dean. She’s fully covered, a long sleeve shirt and some type of cargo pants. He raises an eyebrow at the pink Nikes and leather collar; if she notices she says nothing, continuing to clean her gun.

                “Sam, get over here!” Sam blinks, pulled out of his assessment of the gun-toting hunter, and makes his way to Dean and…Calypso? His brow furrows, that can’t be her real name. It’s too much of a match to Artemis. He briefly considers asking, but the paper Dean’s shoving in his face (it looks like a map) takes precedence.

                “What’s this?” he asks, taking the paper from his brother. It’s a map of the Tombstone graveyard, with names marking the grave sites.

                “Grave locations. The names are the spirits that have been causin’ trouble.” Calypso points to a cluster of three names, “Billy, Tom, and Frank here are the most rowdy. Victims of the O.K. Corral shootout, pissed beyond belief at their fate. According to tourists, they still wander the streets, shooting at imaginary people or real people too close to ‘em.” She points to another, “Margarita, relatively harmless but annoying. Got stabbed by another show girl over a man. She’s still trying to pick up her man, following males around and even tried to kidnap a few. Now Ernest Brodines and George Johnson, these are mean fuckers.” She points to the names, “Johnson was unjustly killed, hanged for a crime he didn’t commit. He just turned violent, almost killed a policeman who was on vacation with the wife and kids. Wife found him hanging from the ceiling by a rope. Thing was, there was no way to hang a rope in the hotel room. Week and a half ago, woman went missing. Turned up dead three days ago. Cause of death, hanging. Ernest just shoots his victims. Four times in the chest, same way he died.”

                “Frank Serroux got shot over a mining claim, he’s not very active.” Sam adds.

                “Most don’t start active. Now Zieglar’s another to watch out for. Murdered. Doesn’t kill the way he was, though. Throws victims down mine shafts, don’t let him get his hands on ya.”

                Sam traces the last set of names, “the Brady boys, just kids.”

                “Mhm, kids that have taken to drowning others in the river or their tubs.”

                “That’s a hell of a lot of ghosts,” Dean comments.

                “We’re not going to be the only hunters there.” The ‘duh’ is tangible, “they’ve been goin’ through caravan-like for the past two days. Chances are, some of these spirits are gone to the beyond. When we get there we’ll talk to some of the ones stationed there, get the details of which bodies have been salted and burned. ‘Mis and I were planning on going after Margarita or George.”

                  “You boys should be able to handle one of the O.K. trio or Brodines, unless you got yourself a target already. Cal, guns are all ready. Want me ta put them in the truck?”

                “Put ‘em in the back seat. Salt in the trunk?”

                “Right next to the gas. You got a plan?”

                Sam and Dean look at each other, “We’ll talk about it on the way down there. It’s still another ten hours.”

                “That it is. Let’s get finished packing, rumor has it we get lodging for free since we’re tryin’ to clear the town of the troublesome spirits. Sam, Dean, you like pancakes?”

                “Hell. Yes.”

                Sam rolls his eyes, “Dean will eat anything. Yeah, I’m up for pancakes.”

                “Sweet.” Calypso rolls her sleeves up and heads to the kitchen, leaving the brothers alone at the table.

                “Dean, I…”

                Dean raises a hand, “No, don’t say anything. It’s alright. We’re cool. Let’s double check the rooms and pack up. I’m itching for a ghost hunt.”

                Sam nods, a bit skeptical on his brother’s easy attitude towards their fight last night, and gets up to grab his bags.

 

* * *

 

 

                Breakfast is rushed, everyone eager to get on the road.

                “These pancakes are delicious!” Dean gushes, “good looks _and_ a good cook! You’re every man’s dream!”

                Calypso snorts, “I ain’t meant to please a man in any way.”

                Dean shrugs and continues eating, “I’m just sayin’.”

                Sam turns to Artemis, who is picking at her pancakes, bacon and eggs all gone.

                “You alright?”

                The younger girl perks up, “Hm? Oh, yeah I’m fine. An… _incident_ turned me off pancakes. Even my sister’s.”

                A crash is heard from the kitchen and Calypso emerges, “don’t fuckin’ lie. You just don’t want ta admit to yourself about what happened then.”

                “You made pancakes that morning!”

                “Then how come _I_ ain’t havin’ adverse reactions towards ‘em?”

                “Cause you’re too busy being repulsed by men!”

                “Oh like you didn’t do the exact same thing!” Calypso’s eyes flash an unnatural color briefly, and the hairs on the back of the Winchesters’ necks stand on end.

                Artemis’s face turns blank, “I don’t know what you mean.”

                “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

                Sam coughs, “I uh, hate to break the discussion up but, what exactly happened?”

                “We were up north a ways, following a demon lead. Right before Valentine’s Day. It was the strangest thing. We get up to the town, and hear that people have been dyin’ left and right from the stupidest things! Latest case was a man who was sexed ta death.”

                Sam and Dean share a look, “what happened to you, then?”

                Calypso pales, “we really don’t know. One minute we were fine and the next…”

                “Let me guess, an innermost desire popped up?” Dean leans forward, now interested.

                “You can say that. It had to be a spell. Lifted as fast as it was cast. You two affected too? Did ya get the caster?”

                “In a sense…”

                “Say what, Sam?”

                “You said you knew about angels. How much do you know?”

                Artemis sighs, “this is too heavy for right before a hunt. When we get to Tombstone, we should lay out all the cards on the table. You boys deserve ta know.”

                “Just tell us now, come on,” Dean complains.

                Calypso moves to clean up the table, “you brought this upon yourself, sister. You tell the tale.”   


	5. Chapter 5

Before Artemis can start the story, frantic clicking on nails on wood starts up. Sam and Dean get into defensive positions, but Artemis waves them off, “the dogs know we’re goin’ hunting.” As if on cue, three dogs rush into the room. Sam can tell that they’re purebreds, and is knocked off his chair by the largest, much to Dean’s amusement.

                “Cerberus!” Calypso grabs the deerhound by his collar, “down.” He gets off Sam and lies at her feet. She helps the larger hunter up, “sorry. Sometimes Cerberus doesn’t know his own strength.”

                “Are the dogs coming with?” Dean asks.

                “Of course, got them from special breeders and everything.”

                “So they _are_ purebreds!”

                Artemis nods, “sure are. Enough about the dogs, I have a tale to tell.”

 

* * *

 

 

They get comfortable in the sitting room, Cerberus laying on Sam’s lap.

                “It all started when we met Balthazar during a succubus case in Vegas.” Artemis wrinkles her nose, “and that is the most loaded sentence I have ever heard.” Dean snorts at her displeasure and Sam gives him a bitchface.

                “What was an angel doing in Vegas?”

                “Selling weapons, mainly. He did me a couple times, though,” she leans in, “best. Sex. EVER. Totally recommend.” Leaning back, she continues, smiling at the looks on the Winchesters’ faces.

                “Anyway, he was at the club where the succubus was, and she was trying to seduce him. He was having none of it, and made her disintegrate with a palm to the forehead. Naturally, Cal and I went to kill him, but he vanished. We would’ve gone after him, but we needed to get back. The pack doesn’t like it when we’re gone for a long time. Anahi especially.” The vizsla perks up at her name and suction cups to Artemis’s side.

                “We get back and he’s _in the house_. Granted none of the dogs would have minded, they’re not the most guard-dog worthy. Anyway, he’s in the house, watching _Titanic_ and making gaggin’ noises the whole time that one song plays. At this point in time we really don’t know for certain that angels are a thing, we gathered they were since demons are real. He introduced himself as Balthazar, an angel. We didn’t buy it at first, but then he showed his wings. I’m sure you know how that is, with your angel friend?”

                Dean nods, “Yeah Cas showed me his wings. Lightning effects and everything.”

                “Pretty majestic, huh? After that grand reveal, he says there’s an Apocalypse happenin’.”

                “A-an Apocalypse?”

                “Yup, the big one. Lucifer and Michael battling it out. Turns out this is the reason for all these spikes in supernatural activity, or so we were told.”

                “You don’t believe this Balthazar?” Sam asks, confused.

                “Not really. Guy may be an angel, but he’s not on par with Upstairs right now. Something ta do with fakin’ his death and buying souls. I don’t know the whole deal.” She starts standing up, “that’s it. That’s the story about the angels.”

                “Woah, woah, sister. Tell us what happened with Famine.” Sam gives Dean a warning glare.

                “Famine? Like the…no. No you can’t be serious. It-it’s really happenin’?” Artemis sits back down, hard, as her legs give out.

                Sam is quick to dispel any worry, “Nothing’s set in stone. It may be adverted.”

                She lets out a hollow laugh, “right. Of course. Nothing happened during that. Just a lot of sex. _Right Calypso_?”

                Calypso gives a curt nod, “yes. That was all.” She moves to finish collecting the bags, but Dean stops her with a hand to her arm, “I think you’re lying.”

                “No, we’re not.” She yanks her arm out of his grip, “and even if we were, it’s not like we’re going to tell you the truth. We had a lot of sex, and I hated it, was embarrassed by it. Any more questions?”

                “Yeah, tell us the truth. This hunt won’t go smoothly if you’re hiding something big.”

                “Who says we’re huntin’ with you? We got our dogs. We’ve done this solo. We invited you to our home in thanks for the help and ta make sure you don’t get yourselves _killed_ by spirits! We didn’t invite you in order for you ta try to figure out why we don’t like talkin’ about that day! It’s bad enough I had sex, it was worse ta see that I was surrounded by bodies when the spell lifted!” Calypso takes a deep breath, “now I need to go and get the collars for the dogs.”

                “Why do you have wolfsbane?” Calypso stops dead in her tracks, “I’m Wiccan, Sam. White witchcraft. Wolfsbane is used for subduing werewolves. You should know that.”

                “You don’t have any silver.”

                “So? Lots of people don’t. We have silver hunting knives and silver bullets and that’s all we need.”

                “You called the dogs ‘the pack.’”

                “What is this, _Twilight_? What’s next, you askin’ if we sparkle in the sun? A group of dogs is called a pack. They’re a group of dogs. If you have something to say, say it. Out loud. Oh Lord there goes the reference.” She storms out of the room, fury rolling off her in waves.

                She returns a few minutes later with three collars, but refuses to even look at the Winchesters. She approaches Sam only to put the collar on Cerberus. The Scottish Deerhound laps her hand lazily as she softly places the iron-laced leather around his neck. As she passes Dean, she feels a sharp pain on her arm.

                “Ow, what the fuck?” She presses her left hand to the cut, hissing at the pressure.

                “Show it.”

                “No. You’re not the boss of me. Let me go throw a bandage on this and we can hit the road.” Artemis nods and stretches, “Cerberus, come.” He jumps off the couch and follows her, the others after.

                “Come on, Sammy. We’re not going to get any answers today.  Let’s go gank some sons of bitches.”

 

* * *

 

 

                In the Impala, Sam opens up a map for the route to Tombstone, “which ghost are we after?”

                Dean shrugs, “dunno. We’ll need to see which ones are left. I mean, I’m all for that Zieglar dude. He sounds like a challenging hunt.”

                “Dean it’s not really challenging if we know who we’re after and where the body is. Speaking of, the bodies are buried beneath rocks, so that adds some challenge I guess.”

                “Beneath rock. Like, stones.”

                “Yes. Piles of rocks.”

                “Well shit.”

                “Anyways, Dean, what the hell was that back there? Why’d you slice her?”

                “Same reason you were asking those questions! They’re obviously not human and those probably aren’t their real names.”

                “Obviously?”

                “Look, they’re hiding something and I _need_ to know what it is.”

                “But what if they were telling the truth? That they sexed some poor suckers to death under Famine’s influence.” Sam adds hastily, “and maybe Calypso just doesn’t like meaningless sex. Not everyone’s into one night stands.”

                Dean huffs but drops the subject, “so Zieglar, right?”

                Sam is thrown off for a minute, “uh, yeah. Likes throwing people down abandoned mine shafts. He was shot by a miner buddy and died pretty quickly. Minutes, the report says. Do you think he’s been taken care of already?”

                Dean shrugs, “we’ll find out, but something tells me that he’s still kicking. Now help me navigate, I lost visual on the dog mobile.”

                  Sam groans and opens the map, Dean turning up the music.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking a long time, and it's a bit short since it's more of a filler chapter. Next chapter will be the hunt, so that will be action-packed and long.

The rumor that lodging was free for hunters wasn’t unfounded. Sam and Dean pull into the motel parking lot and are greeted by a flustered hostess.

                “Are you here for the…?” she makes wild hand gestures in the direction of the graveyard.

                “Yeah, we are.” Dean answers.

                “Oh, okay. Well, if you go around back we have more parking. Just take an open room, it’s on the house.”

                “Thanks, ma’am.” Dean steers the Impala behind the motel and parks her. They get out of the car and find room three fifteen is open and Dean quickly puts his jacket on the bed closest to the door, claiming both the bed and room. He then goes and helps his brother take in their bags and Sam leaves to get the key from the woman at the desk.

                When he returns, Dean is already sprawled on his bed.

                “Dude, we need to go ask around, see which ghosts are still running amok.” Dean sighs heavily and sits up, “fine, fine. We should probably find the Wonder Twins while we’re at it too.”

                “No need, boys. We’re here now. Hurry up, the other hunters are convening in the main building’s lobby. Some of the first responders went missing.”

                Sam perks up at this information, “you think the ghosts got them?”

                “Wouldn’t put it past ‘em.  The bodies haven’t been found yet. I’m going out for recon later. So come on,” Artemis jerks her head to the side, motioning towards the commons.

                “Right, right, fine. Come on Sam.” The two get off the beds and slip on their shoes, heading to the meeting.

 

* * *

 

 

                At first glance there aren’t that many hunters, however as word gets out a few more show up. There seems to be fifteen to twenty, all of varying ages. Dean spies a girl in her late teens with black and blue hair-obviously not all of them are career hunters.

                “A lot of us hunt as a hobby, y’know,” Artemis says, breaking the males out of their scanning, “it’s fun and we have back up jobs. Cal’s a vet tech, going to school at A and M to be a vet. I’m an apprentice welder.” She shrugs and returns to her sister’s side as one of the older hunters starts the briefing, obviously the unofficial leader.  

                “Alright, we’ve lost three in the past two days, all to that damn Zieglar fella. We haven’t been able to find the bodies. So we need a team to go after him. The others can be subdued at a later time, but Zieglar needs to be taken out _now_.” The group nods with murmurs of agreement.

                “We need a group to try and find the three missing, a group to salt and burn Zieglar, and a group to distract his spirit.”

                “How many for each, boss?”

                “Five or six for search and rescue, three to four for the digging, the rest going as distraction. Distraction, your job is to keep Zieglar away from his grave and the mines.” There is some soft mumbles of assent.

                “Split up into teams, know your own strengths and weaknesses, we can’t afford any more losses.”

                “Yessir,” the group replies, Sam and Dean instinctually respond as well.

               

                After the meeting is adjourned, the head hunter makes his way to the Winchesters, “I know you both just got here, but we need to do this tonight. We can’t let those three stay missing for any longer. We’re setting out at sunset, so get as much rest as you can.” When they nod, he leaves to greet a few other hunters. Dean motions with his head towards the door and they leave the lobby. They make their way back to their room for their four hours of sleep before the hunt begins.   
                “What team are you going on, Sam?”  
                The taller man shrugs, “distraction, probably. I mean, ghosts go after me anyway, why not make that useful?” he gives a short laugh.  
                Dean blinks and narrows his eyes, “then I’m with you. You’ll probably fall into a mine or something.”

                Sam has the decency to look affronted, “I’m not that clumsy, Dean.”

                “Oh? I beg to differ. How many times have I had to pick you off the ground when you tripped over your two damn feet? Or how about that time in Nebraska a few weeks back when—“

                “Okay, okay, I’m not the most graceful!” Sam rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bed, springs creaking slightly.

               

* * *

 

 

 Sundown comes too quickly for their liking, and Sam rolls off the bed when Dean tries to wake him.  They put their boots on, load the guns, and return to the lobby. The other hunters are mulling about, double- and triple-checking weapons and maps. Three dogs are lounging next to the fireplace, the light of the flames glinting off the polished iron of their collars. Sam leans against the wall, opening the map of the Boothill Graveyard and surrounding areas. Dean peers over his brother’s shoulder, “we need to keep him away from his grave, right?”

                Sam nods, “We’re probably going to make a ring around the graveyard, keep all sides covered. I was thinking we’d set up…here.” He points to the map and looks at Dean for approval. The other nods, Sam’s the tactical thinker so he’s not going to disagree.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this is almost 2500 words. Something is mentioned here that really doesn't add to the plot, but will be resolved/expanded on in the next few chapters. Next chapter will have a surprise visit from a charater close to my heart. Warning, this contains Hurt!Sam (I love Whumpy!Sam so much my heart can't take it).

The hunt starts out fine. Everyone quickly gets into position after the search team leaves, taking one of the dogs with them. It turned out that the dogs belonged to a certain pair of hunters whose last name was Cook. This sent Dean into a fit of barely-contained laughter as ‘they have the badass first names, and they follow it with “Cook”? That’s hilarious!’.  Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics and continued setting up.

               

                It’s about an hour in when the first shots are heard, making Sam and Dean jump up and ready their shotguns.

                “Duck!” Dean yells and Sam obeys, dropping to the ground as his brother sends a round of salt into the malevolent spirit. Zieglar dissipates with a hiss and Sam gets back up to continue keeping watch. Zeiglar returns with a vengeance about twenty minutes later, and decides to take Sam as his next victim. He appears in front of Sam and before the hunter could get a shot in he’s being lifted into the air, gasping for breath and struggling. Dean takes the iron-loaded gun and fires round after round. He hits his mark and Sam drops to the ground, landing on his feet before stumbling back with a curse. He tries to stand, only to have his left leg buckle underneath him with a sickening snap.

                “Shit!” Dean jogs to his side, prodding the leg for a sign of a break while still looking out for the spirit. A gunshot echoes from the opposite end of the ring and Dean prays that the excavation crew almost have the bones.

                “Fuck, Sammy…” Dean hisses as he assesses the damage, “fuckin’ ruptured your Achilles. Can you feel anything?”

                Sam shakes his head, blinking back tears, “It’s just…tingly. I really can’t feel anything below the knee.” It’s a lie and Dean knows it but he allows it to slip. There will be time for reprimand after Sam is back in the room, safe.  
                “Alright. Here’s the plan. I leave you here with both guns-hear me out Sam-and go grab someone from the digging crew. They’ll take you back to our room and after the hunt we can call Cas to heal ya. Deal?” Sam nods, shifting positions a little to accommodate the second guns. The shift makes pain shoot up his leg and a few tears slide down his face. Dean frowns and pats him on the shoulder, taking off in a sprint towards the graveyard.

                He makes it to the grave site in record time, panting as those digging look on is confusion and concern.

                “Dean, what’s wrong?” Calypso wipes sweat from her brow and leans on her shovel, “I know we’re takin’ a long-ass time but this soil is rock hard.”

                Dean shakes his head, “No, no it’s fine. It’s just, Sam’s hurt. Bad. His leg’s messed up. I can’t support him the whole way.”

                “I’ll help.” A burly Native American male sticks his shovel into the ground with a dull thud. He looks at Dean, “Name’s Matt. Where’s this ‘Sam’?”

                “We’re stationed this way,” he takes the lead with a jog, the other following behind. They make it to where the Winchesters were set up in good time, “Sammy! I’ve got he—Sam?”

                Dean looks around for his brother, “Sammy?” He spots both guns on the ground like they were dropped.

                “Sam!” Dean runs around, looking behind rocks and trees for his wayward brother.

                “I think he may have been taken,” Matt tells him, looking at the guns. “There are drag marks, he put up a good fight.”

                “I’d be pissed if he didn’t. But where would Zieglar have taken him?”

                “Same place where the others are, I’d guess. We haven’t gotten anything back from the search team, though.”

                “Is there anything we can do? He’s got my brother!” Even though Dean still hates the fact that Sam went behind his back with that demon, Ruby, the familial bond was stronger than the disgust at the actions at this point in time.

                “Calm down, first. Let’s head back to the grave, tell Cook what happened. She’ll know what to do. Bring the guns.” Dean grabs the guns, making sure the safety’s on, and straps them on. Underneath the guns is a shoe, a size thirteen ratty tennis shoe to be exact. He grabs that as well, Sam will need it when they find him.

                Back at the grave, Calypso gives Dean a glare that would ice hell over, “You _what_.”

                “We lost Sam. Zieglar took him.”

                A flurry of curses explode from the short girl but she composes herself quickly, “okay. That his?” she points to the shoe and Dean nods. “Good. Give it.” He does with a quizzical look on his face.

                “Why do you need Sam’s shoe?”

                “Tracking.” The ‘duh’ was implied but just as audible as if it was spoken. Dean frowns as she whistles shrilly, the lumbering form of a large dog-Cerberus, his mind supplies- appears next to her.

                “The scent trail should be fresh, since he wasn’t taken that long ago. Zeiglar most likely took him to where he’s storing the others as well.” She pulls a two-way radio from her pocket, “This is Cook, do you read me? Over.” Static crackles and a muffled reply is heard.

                “Repeat.”

                “This is Chase, we read you. Over.”

                “Wonderful. One of distraction has been taken, but his shoe was left behind. We’re almost the body, the soil is hell to dig in.”

                “Don’t I know it. And another’s gone. Shit.”

                “But we have a scent. I’m going to track it, and hopefully our paths will cross.”

                “You think he put him with the others?”

                “Pretty damn certain. I’m just giving a heads up.”

                “Much appreciated. Over.” The connection ceases and Calypso turns to Dean, “let’s go.”

                “Aren’t you going to, I dunno, let him smell it?”

                This time she rolls her eyes, “not until we get to where your brother was taken. So lead on, Winchester.” She nods and follows, the others getting back to digging.

 

* * *

 

             

When they reach the place where Sam was taken, Calypso allows the deerhound to smell Sam’s shoe. He sniffs it for about a minute before Calypso give the order to find. Cerberus lowers his muzzle to the ground and tests the air. He takes off towards the mines, the two humans following. They stop at a crossroads, Cerberus sniffing around before sitting and whining at them.

                “Wait, what does that mean?”

                “Means we lost the scent. Now all we can do is just wait for search and rescue to tell us they found ‘em.” She sits down heavily, allowing the deerhound to get praise for a good track and that it wasn’t his fault. Dean paces around until Calypso drags him down to sit.

                “Worrying isn’t going ta help. He’ll be fine.”

                “He’s already is piss-poor shape! I mean his left leg’s unusable! He’s always the one getting hurt, I can only imagine what that fuckin’ drop down the mine is going to do to him…”

                “Hey.” She puts her hand on his knee, “I said it’ll turn out fine. ‘Sides, you have your angel. He’ll heal ya both up.”

                “Yeah.” Dean hopes Castiel can heal Sam, his powers are weakening at an alarmingly fast rate.

                “See!” Calypso grins at him, “nothing to worry about.” Dean turns to face her and starts leaning in, his face getting closer. The next thing he knows he’s on his back looking at an irate five foot two hunter who has her foot on his chest, and damn those boots hurt.

                “The fuck?” she squeaks. Dean has the sense to allow himself to blush, “I uh…I thought.”

                “Well you thought wrong, buddy. I was just tryin’ ta be nice, calm you down before ya freak on us!” Dean opens his mouth to retort, but she stops him, “oh shut up. You seem like a decent guy, and yeah you’re easy on the eyes, but I want none of that. I don’t want kisses, I don’t want sex-don’t look at me like that I know you’ve been eyein’ me since the chupes. What I want is those missing ta be found, a long, hot shower, and a couple of beers with my sister while we watch shitty motel TV. Ya hear?”

                Dean nods and she takes her foot off him and he sits up, “sorry.”

                “Apology accepted. I get it, you’re not used to kindness from someone who doesn’t want somethin’ in return. I’m bein’ nice because if that was my sister down there, well, I’d need someone to ground me too.” Dean nods his thanks and they fall back into silence, him thinking and her caring for the dog.

                It seems like hours before the crackling of the radio in Calypso’s pocket breaks the silence. She jumps and fumbles it out of her pocket, “This is Cook.”

                “We got to the bones, they’re burning right now.” Both hunters give a sigh of relief.

                “Any news from recon?”

                “They found them. A few of us are heading to the site. I can give coordinates.”

                “Please.” A set of numbers is rattled off and Calypso etches them on the dry skin of her arm with a nail.

                “Thank you. We’ll be there soon.” She turns the radio off and stuffs it back in her jeans before looking up at Dean with a grin, “well come on, Winchester. We’ll need to drive.”

 

* * *

 

 

The drive is made in Calypso’s truck, despite Dean’s insistence that the Impala would be better suited-especially if Castiel is going to appear. The deal breaker was Calypso’s bringing of the dogs. So Dean rides shotgun in the Ford pick-up with two dogs in the bed. The ride is unnaturally quiet, Dean worrying and Calypso more focused on navigation than conversation. When they arrive, they’re met with almost no one, the rest of the team trying to retrieve those lost from the mine.

                Dean rushes over, “Sammy!”

                A raspy reply of “Dean?” is heard from the depths. A round of coughing follows, and Dean frowns at the wetness of the cough.

                “How are we getting them out?”

                “We managed to get the lift working, but it takes a lot of manpower to get one person up since the electricity is shot. We’ve got one out. She’s over by the med truck,” the two-toned hair girl explains, going back to the lever system.”          

                There’s a shout from the mine, “fuck! He passed out! Get him in the lift!” There’s shuffling and a few swears before a bell sounds. Everyone gets to the pulley, pulling up fast. Dean and Calypso join the line and they pull up the elevator. The doors open and Sam is laying on the floor. Dean rushes over and tries to pick up his giant of a brother out of the elevator. Two-tone helps him carry Sam to the medical setup, and the hunters there quickly get to work.

                One of the medics looks at Dean, “Partner?” he asks.

                “Brother.”

                “Oh, I’m sorry. It must be hard to see him like this.”

                “We-we’ve had it worse. Just tell me the damage.”

                “From what I can see so far…his leg’s busted, and it looks like a broken collarbone.”

                Sam coughs and Dean draws closer, but the younger brother stays unconscious. The medic nods, “broken rib, possibly a punctured lung. You need to get him to a hospital ASAP.” Dean calls Calypso over and she brings the truck. Dean unceremoniously places Sam in the passenger seat and climbs into the bed, followed by Artemis and the third dog.

                “Back to the motel?” Calypso asks, trying to keep Sam upright.

                “Yeah,” Dean calls back. The girl nods and hits the gas, heading back to base as fast as possible. Dean tilts his head up, “Hey, Cas, we’re at the Larian Motel, room three fifteen. Sam’s hurt bad, and we’re on our way back.”

                “Let’s hope your angel heard ya,” Artemis quips.

                “He’s not my angel.”

                “Riiiiight, so they’re making bedroom eyes at everyone these days.”

                “What!? No! Cas doesn’t…Cas doesn’t do that!”

                She hums in acknowledgement, “mmm, I see. Keepin’ secrets are we?”

                Dean’s face turns stony, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

                The girl’s demeanor changes instantly, “I don’t know what you mean.”

                “You’re hiding something.”

                “Everyone has skeletons in their closets, Winchester. Some have more than others.” Dean takes out a knife and Artemis scoots back, “the fuck.”

                “Just hold it.” The knife is lines with silver, and it’s noticeable, but Artemis takes it anyway. She shrugs, “see? Nothing.” Her eyes are hard and her mouth is in a thin line as she hands the knife back. Dean grabs her hand and looks at her palm, there’s a burn in the shape of the hilt. She snatches her hand back, “Fuck you, alright? Who cares! I saved your brother’s ass so it’s pretty obvious I’m one of the good guys here!” The truck lurches to a stop in front of the motel. The dogs jump out of the bed, followed by an angry Artemis and Dean. The Cook sisters help Dean carry his brother into the room, where Castiel is sitting on one of the beds. He stands as soon as Sam is placed on the closest bed, hovering over him. Artemis leaves almost instantly, giving him an icy glare with too-gold eyes. Calypso lingers longer.

                “Hey, if you ever wanna, y’know,” he lifts his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, “you know where to find me.”

                “I’m flattered, but that’s never going ta happen. I’m ace.” She winks and leaves with a soft click of the door. Dean blinks in confusion and turns to Castiel, “The hell is ‘ace’?”

                “I do not know. Do you want me to heal your brother?”

                “Shit, why did you even ask? Of course I do!” Castiel frowns and puts his hands on Sam’s abdomen. The blue light of healing grace lights up the surrounding area before dying off. Castiel sways slightly and Dean catches him, “woah, buddy. Easy there. Sit down.” Cas sits on the other bed, “I managed to heal the worst of his injuries. He should regain consciousness soon.” Dean sighs in relief as he waits for his brother to return to the living.


	8. Chapter 8

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean doesn’t look up from the laptop he pilfered from his brother’s bag, “lookin’ up ‘ace’.” He frowns and tries another search, “but all I’m getting is about card games and hardware stores.” In a last effort he searches ‘what does is mean when someone says they’re ace’ and the first result is a Wikipedia article on asexuality. He raises an eyebrow and clicks, “huh. It’s short for asexual. Means that she doesn’t experience sexual attraction? Damn, that’s a loss.” He shuts the laptop off and puts it back in Sam’s bag, trying to make it seem like he never moved it in the first place. He probably failed, but Sam wasn’t awake to notice. Dean frowns as he looks over at his brother’s form and goes to sit next to him, “Cas, how soon is soon? It’s been hours.”

                “It has been two hours, Dean. Injuries of that magnitude take a lot out of a person. I estimate another hour at most.”

                Dean nods, “what did you heal?”

                “I mended a tear in his right lung, a displaced and cracked rib, and a hairline fracture on the back of the skull along with the resulting concussion.”

                Dean winces and places a hand on Sam’s knee, “he fucked you up, Sam.” There is a little snuffle from the unconscious Winchester and Dean turns his gaze from Cas to the other man.

                “Wakin’ up, Sammy?” He gets a whine in response and laughs, helping him up and nudging his younger brother’s leg slightly. Sam muffles a scream of pain by biting his hand, eyes scrunched up in pain.

                “Ah, shit!” Dean scrambles around for a second before rubbing Sam’s sternum, “breathe through it. I’m sorry, breathe, man.” Sam takes several shaking breaths before making a strangled coughing noise. Dean, well-versed in Sam, grabs the nearest trashcan and shoves it under Sam’s face. Sam grabs the trashcan and retches into it, tears streaming down his face. Dean rubs his back, “easy, Sammy.”

                “D-Dee…” Dean goes pale at the nickname, he hasn’t heard that since Sam was in high school and out with appendicitis.

                “Breathe, Sam. Is it just your leg?” Sam nods and clutches the trashcan tighter.

                “Cas! Knock him out or something, please!” Castiel places two fingers on Sam’s forehead and Sam falls back into unconscious.

                Dean whips around to Cas, “why the FUCK didn’t you fix his leg!?”

                “I mended his most life threatening. I’m sorry.” Cas gives Dean the kicked puppy look and the hunter puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder in what he hopes is a soothing motion, “Cas, man, fuck, it’s fine alright? Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?” Castiel nods and puts a hand on Sam’s leg, careful to not jostle it too much in case the taller hunter wakes.

                “It appears that his ankle is dislocated, the tendon that connects his muscle to his heel is severed, and there are multiple fractures along the tibia.”

Dean gags at the diagnosis, “do you have enough juice to heal it?”

“I may, but to what extent I am not certain. There is another alternative, though you may find it unappealing.”

“Like what? Ask the freaks that drove us back?”

Castiel blinks, “they are human, there is no way for them to heal him in the way he needs.”

“Then what, Cas?”

“I…could see if I can find Gabriel.”

Dean’s face tightens into a grimace, “and why do you think he would help?”

“He seems to have,” he puts his hands in the pockets of his coat, “taken a liking to Sam. I am not certain, but I believe that he will help.” Dean runs his hand through his hair, “Fuck, fine. Do it.” While not the most palatable option, it beats having Sam in agonizing pain until a hospital can be reached. Castiel sends out a prayer to Gabriel, stressing the fact that it is _Sam_ who is in need. He hopes that his brother responds.

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel is sitting on top of the Sphynx, invisible to human eyes, and sucking on a lollipop. The prayer from Castiel is so unexpected that he nearly falls off the monument.

_Gabriel, brother, I need your help._ There is a pause in the prayer, as though Castiel’s pride is trying to overshadow need. _I…Samuel is hurt very badly and I…I do not have the Grace to heal him. I know you don’t wish to get involved but we need you right now. Or Sam does at least._ Gabriel was halfway to Cas’s location before the prayer ended so by the time he finished, there was an archangel in the room. Dean is standing in the corner, scowl on his face, but doesn’t say anything as the pagan god-archangel surveys the motel. His eyes lock on Sam’s form and his eyes narrow, “and what the holy fuck happened here.”

“A ghost got him. I healed his life-threatening injuries. He was thrown down a mine shaft after being dragged several miles.” Castiel explains. Gabriel’s frown deepens and he tentatively puts a hand on Sam’s uninjured knee. Sam shifts in his Grace-induced sleep, crying out softly when his destroyed leg moves.

“Alright, everyone out.”

“What, why?” Dean exclaims, moving towards the short angel. Castiel holds him back, “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Damn right. I need space if I’m going to heal him. It’s going to be messy since I’m not going to be using angel powers.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Dean-o, I’m here because my baby bro asked me to. I’m not choosing a side in this bullshit so I’m not going to make myself noticed by Heaven in all its douchebaggery.” Castiel nods in understanding as he ushers Dean out of the room with a ‘there is a diner nearby, you must be hungry.’

 

With the two gone, Gabriel sits on the bed in between Sam’s legs, making sure not to cause the human more pain than he already is by moving the uninjured leg.

“Alrighty, Sammich. Let’s get down to business.” He chuckles slightly at the reference before placing both palms on the injured-beyond-repair leg. Sam’s eyes open due to the pain, and a strangled scream makes its way out of his throat.

“Easy, Sasquatch. You really did a number on this leg.”

“G-Gabriel?”

“The one and only.” A tight smile follows the response as Gabriel pushes pagan magic through his hands and into the hunter’s body, flowing through skin and bone to heal.

“I’m using some of your own energy for this,” he explains, face contorted in concentration, “so don’t expect to be moving too fast anytime soon.” He figures that as soon as this is done, both of them are going to be passed out, so might as well warn the kid now.

“You ready?”

Sam takes a stabilizing breath and nods.

“Okay, kiddo.” In a fluid motion he presses down and up on the injured limb, dragging another scream from the tall man. Gabriel grimaces but continues, winding his own blue-green magic with Sam’s golden (he refuses to acknowledge the black threads) soul energy. He starts on the ankle, pushing it back into place. Sam is reduced to keening, sobbing openly due to both the invasive magic and pressure on the limb. Gabriel gets onto his knees and reaches a hand up and pats his cheek, “hang in there. This is almost over.” Sam just nods and takes shaky breaths, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Ankle back in place and whole, Gabriel sits back on his heels and looks Sam in the eye, “need a break?” Sam holds back the urge to shake his head no, and croaks out, “y-yeah. C-Can I have the trashcan too?” Gabriel raises an eyebrow in question but hands him the container that Dean cleaned out about an hour ago.

“Thanks,” Sam gasps out before emptying the contents of his stomach once more. Gabriel’s eyes widen at the action, but he makes no move to comfort. He does, however, brush the hunter’s hair away from his face once the makeshift barf-bag is lowered.

“You okay there, Sam?”

“No, but let’s continue.” He’s pale and shaking slightly, and Gabriel peers at him through squinted eyes.

“I’m basically rebuilding your entire lower leg. Your Achilles is shredded, tibia shattered, and I just fixed up your ankle.” Sam gulps and Gabriel moves to give him the trashcan again. Sam shakes his head, “I’m fine. Just…what’s next?”

“I’m just going up the leg. Ankle fixed, tendon next. And if you need me to stop, tell me. Got it?”

“Why are, why are you being so nice?”

“Because Cassie asked me to help. Did I mention that Castiel is my favorite brother? Because he is. And you’re not going to be doing any Apocalypse stopping in this sorry shape.” While he may not have officially chosen a side in the war, Gabriel was silently hoping that the whole thing is averted.

“Just tell me if you need to rest. And if I sense you’re lying…” the threat is left hanging in the air as Sam nods again. The process begins again as Gabriel’s pagan magic twines with Sam’s energy for the healing. The initial rethreading of the tendon goes with minor pain, Sam’s body now used to the invading force. When he starts reattaching the muscle, Sam lets out a loud gasp as his eyes water and back arches.

“You good, Samoose?”

“Y-yeah. Just wasn’t expecting that. I’m good.” Gabriel nods and continues, giving an experimental tug on the finished complex before declaring that part done. He glances back up at the human and frowns at the tear marks running down his cheeks.

“’M tired, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, but stay awake just a bit longer. One bit left. This’ll be easy. No sleeping yet, ya hear?”

Sam nods, “I hear.”

Gabriel pats his leg, “good.” Sam’s tibia is not really _shattered_ , just cracked in many places. All in all, the easiest fix. Within minutes and minor irritation to Sam, the last of the cracks was healed and the leg back in working order.

“There we are, back in working order. You’ll be tired for a while, kay? Now I’m just gonna…” he tries to get up but shakes and falls back, “that’s not going to work.” He looks over at Sam who is passed out. Gabriel sighs and allows the blackness to overtake him and he falls over onto Sam. When the hunter awakes it will be awkward, but right now he really cannot care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be all about the Cook sisters, as their backstory is important for later times. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten that there's an Apocalypse going on! I don't apologize for the shippy-ness, but I hope that it didn't come off as too much since it's supposed to be a slow build. Please review, it makes me happy.


	9. Chapter 9

Calypso tiptoes into the room she and her sister share, and breathes a sigh of relief when the room is dark and the only noises are from the sleeping dogs. She turns on the light and sees a note laying on her sister’s bed. She picks it up after careful maneuvering around curled up balls of muscle and fur. It reads: ‘ _Hey, Cal! I’m over with Amelie (the girl with the two colored hair) getting lucky. I’m sure you saw this coming. If you **really** need me I’m in her room, 415. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, depends on if there’s morning sex or not :) Maybe she’ll hang with us. We really clicked after the meeting. At least it’s not right next door this time, yeah? Later-Artemis_ ’. Calypso grins and sets the paper down, moving to get showered and changed.

                The water pressure in the shower is really nice. Not the best, like the one at home, but definitely not the worst she’s experienced in her travels. She spends a good hour under the spray, getting graveyard gunk and blood (Sam Winchester’s) off her body. She wonders how Sam is faring, hopefully his brother got ahold of their angel. Cassiel, was it? No, but no matter.

                Dressed in sweat pants and a baggy tee, Calypso curls up on her bed and opens up a textbook. Stuck to the front cover is another note from her sister. ‘ _He knows_.’ She lets out a string of curses, many not in English. Better now than before the hunt, she supposes. She sighs and begins reading the chapter of surgical procedures, just because she hunts does not mean that she can get behind in her work. The bed dips as a Jack Russell Terrier snuggles into her thigh. She scratches her behind the ear, “you were so good today, Lily. All of you were. Cerberus and Anahi especially.” The hounds in question snort in their sleep and Lily wags her tail, happy with the praise.

                “A spay is also called an ovariohysterectomy. Did you know that, girl?” Since starting her program, she found that talking concepts and vocabulary with the dogs or her sister helped retention. With her sister away, she is more comfortable talking with the eager listening of the canines.

                “That’s what you had, so you wouldn’t have babies. You don’t need babies.” Lily barks, waking up the hounds. The large mass of the Scottish Deerhound and the lithe muscle of the Vizsla join the bed party.

                “Guys! I have to study!” Calypso laughs and rubs the heads of the new additions, “you were all very good dogs today. We got the ghost.” Anahi licks Calypso’s cheek and flops on the bed, head on the textbook.

                “Anahi, head off.” She pushes the muzzle blocking the page, still laughing at the antics. The dogs settle down around her on the soft motel bed as she resumes her reading.

 

* * *

 

 

             

   She is yanked out of her studies by muffled screaming a few rooms over. It sounds like someone in pain, probably one of the hunters left at the mercy of Zeiglar for days. She reaches over Anahi to grab her bag, searching through it for a few minutes before pulling out an iPod. She puts in the earbuds and turns up the volume, drowning out the noise before returning to her work. She finished her chapter and tries to move off the bed, only to find that Cerberus is laying on her legs.

                “Off, you lug. Time for a walk.” At the magic word, the three dogs perk up and jump off the bed, sitting and staring at Calypso. Calypso stand up shakily, her legs having fallen asleep during the time underneath the deerhound. She checks their collars, making sure the iron is still attached to the leather. Satisfied, she grabs the door key and heads out, the three following happily.

 She sees Dean and…that angel (she still cannot remember the name) get into the Winchester’s car. Seeing the drawn look on Dean’s face, she gathers that while Sam may be doing better, Dean obviously isn’t fully convinced that Sam is better. She wants to go up to him and ask, but decides against it as Anahi chases after a rabbit. She runs after, grabbing the Vizsla’s collar, “No. Leave it.” The dog whines and lies down, looking up at her with big eyes. The rabbit is long gone, as is the Impala.

They walk around the town, stopping at intervals for scents and marking. Calypso stares up at the sky, basking in the moon and starlight. She looks at her watch, about three AM, which is fine since she had no intention of sleeping to begin with. She sits down in the desert, watching the three dogs play in the brush, returning her gaze to the sky. The moon is close to the first day of fullness, and she can already feel the effects.

“Dean fucking Winchester knows,” she says to no one. To be honest, she is surprised that he didn’t try to kill her sister right then. Small mercies, she decides. After all, the two of them are paradoxes, both the hunter and the hunted. The predator and the prey. You die hunting or live long enough to see yourself become one of the things you hunt.

“We’re not really _monsters_ ,” she explains to nobody, “we control ourselves. Except that one night…” She shudders at the memory. There is so much blood. It’s all over her, all over her sister, the room, everywhere.

“I have to come clean to them.” She whistles and the dogs come running. They set off back to the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Once back to the motel and the dogs back in their kennels, she locates the Winchesters’ room. She knocks loudly, hoping that they are still awake as well. 

Sam opens the door, hair mussed up and without a shirt. It looks like he just got out of the shower.

“Saaaaaaam, you’re not supposed to be walkiiiiiiiing!” She can place that voice, and that whine, anywhere.

“Sam, why is Loki in your room?”

Sam shifts positions and looks uncomfortable, “ah, well…”

Calypso barks out a laugh, “looks like you’re more in tune with your sexuality than your brother.”

“What, no it’s not li---what?”

“Oh please, I almost drowned in the sexual tension between your brother and that angel. And when they did the staring thing…palpable from five miles away I swear to God.” She huffs and shakes her head before continuing, “But no matter. Can I come in? It’s a little chilly.” Sam nods and moves out of the doorway to allow her entry. She carefully steps over the salt line and closes the door behind her. Sam leaves to finish getting dressed and Loki is laying on the bed, reading some magazine that probably wasn’t there before. She snorts and sits in a chair by the kitchenette, a nice one at that. Loki looks over at her and beams, “Well if it isn’t my favorite wolf-witch!”

“I think I’m the only one of those you know.”

“I think Lupa counts, but she ran off with Fenrir a few centuries back. Haven’t heard from any of them since the fall of Rome.”

“So.” Calypso leans forward and stage whispers in a conspiratorial tone, “Are ya a _Winchester’s_ booty call? I’d have thought it’d be the other way around.”

Loki grins and follows her lead, “Oh it would _so_ be the other way around, honey.”

“I don’t doubt your ability to seduce, Loki.”

“You’d better not.” The Trickster gives a dramatic sigh, “but alas! Sammy has yet to give me his number.”

“It’s Sam.” Sam returns to the room, sitting on the bed unoccupied by a pagan god.

“Anyway, what brings you here, Calypso?”

Calypso takes a deep breath, “I have something to confess.” Loki raises an eyebrow at Sam’s stiffening back.

“Yeah…?”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not in love you or anything.” She lets out a soft laugh, but Sam only relaxes a little.

“Your brother was right. My sister and I…aren’t all human. You probably heard Loki call me ‘wolf-witch’ too, so…”

“You said you were a practicing Wiccan.”  
                “Oh, I am. It’s uh, ah fuck it. I’m a werewolf. My sis too. Don’t kill me?” Her voice gets high pitched and she braces herself for the burn of a silver knife in her chest. It never comes. She opens an eye, “Sam?”

“That’s why you didn’t want to tell us what really happened with Famine.”

“Yeah. We don’t make it a habit. Eatin’ people, I mean. It…it was pretty bad. Fucked ‘em then ate ‘em. We killed thirteen men. Thirteen. They probably had families, a job, a _life_! And I _ate seven of their hearts_!” She gags and Sam offers her the twice-cleaned trash can. She shakes her head and composes herself, “no, I, I’m good. I’m fine. So there ya go. That’s the story. My sister won’t like me for a little bit for tellin’ ya, but I don’t care. Someone had ta know. But we’re not like that ones that get hunted. We’re good, we do good work, good things. I don’t want ta die like that. Like a monster.”

Sam shakes his head, “Your secret’s safe. Don’t worry, I get it.”

Calypso stands, “thank you.” She reaches up and puts a hand on his shoulder, “you’re a good guy, Sam. Here,” she takes a pen and the motel stationary and writes a number, “that’s my number. If you ever have a hunt down here again, hit us up. Just don’t get in the way of our offerin’ up sacrifices again, okay?” Sam nods and takes the paper, smiling.

“Will do.”

“See ya maybe, Winchester. Loki.” She steps over the salt line again, grinning up at the moon as she leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last we're going to see Calypso and Artemis for a while. Next we're back on the road to stopping the Apocalypse (some time jumps are going to be happening, but all major plot points will be followed). 'Til next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the blatant shipping. As many of you other writers know, the characters sometimes have agendas of their own and cannot be tamed. That is Gabriel right now. I reigned him in some, but this is how the story wanted to be written apparently. Once again, I'm sorry. Do enjoy, though.

Sam lies back on the bed, his newly healed leg shaking from the exertion of standing and walking. Gabriel frowns and puts a hand on a knee, cooling magic soothing the trembling muscles.

                “Told you not to get up. But you’re a stubborn moose.” Sam snorts and the archangel flops on the couch after finishing the repair.

                “Where’d your brother take my baby bro?”

                Sam shrugs from his position on the bed, “Dunno. Probably a bar, he’s been trying to get Cas laid for months now.”

                This time Gabriel laughs, “Can’t he tell that it’s only him and will always be him?”

                Sam raises an eyebrow at the short angel in response.

                “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Castiel started his trek downwards the moment he laid a hand on your brother in Hell.” Sam’s eyes narrow in confusion. Gabriel sighs dramatically, “you’ll figure it out, you’re smarter than the average bear.” The hunter lets the subject drop, but files away the information for possible future teasing of his brother.

                There’s a snap and Sam finds an archangel sitting on his legs.

                “You were literally five feet away from me.”

                “Yeah, well, you were going to get up. Whaddya need, Sammich?”

                “I want to get up.”

                “Nope! Not gonna happen, kiddo. You’re under bed rest until further notice.”

                “Says who?” Despite the question, Sam resigned to his fate the moment Gabriel appeared on his legs.

                “Says the awesome archangel.” Gabriel practically glows under the self-praise.

                “The archangel who refuses to help against the Apocalypse.”

                “I told you, I don’t play Holy Wars.”

                “What about Cas?”

                The smile falls from Gabriel’s face, “what about Castiel?”

                “Shouldn’t you stay for him? I mean, you’re pretty much the only angel left that’s not actively trying to kill him or us.”

                Gabriel leans back on his heels, “Cassie is…special. He’s one of the last angels, one of the babies. He’s still extremely young by our standards. But he, he’s managed to take Dad’s words and apply them better than any of us ever could.” His eyes harden, “I owe him that much. Did you know I taught Castiel to fly? His wings are still too big for his form.” Gabriel nods, “I’m not on any side, but…I might pop in sometimes.” He maneuvers around the bed and ends up straddling Sam’s hips, “besides, I like you. You’re fun.”

                Sam’s face is a nice shade of red and Gabriel snickers at the hunter’s discomfort, “Well, call me when Cassie returns, my number’s in your phone. Later, Sammy!” The archangel snaps his fingers and disappears from the room. Sam throws an arm over his face and groans, trying to get his mind off the fact that he was just _straddled by a fucking archangel of the Lord_ and the erection that followed. He can only hope that Dean and Cas don’t come back from wherever too soon.

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily for Sam, he is asleep by the time Dean and Castiel return from their outing. Dean, however, wakes him up by being his normal, loud self. Sam lets out a noise of disapproval, shifting on the bed.

                “Wake up, Sam! I brought food!”

                A muffled garble comes from the bed, sounding suspiciously like “go away, Dean.”

                “Gabriel healed you, right?”

                “Uh-huh. ‘M all fixed up.” He didn’t slur this much before, right? He just feels like sleeping for the next month.

                Dean frowns and walks over, “dude, you alright?”

                “Jus’ tired.” Sam tries to burrow back under the blankets (even though he has no idea when he got under them), quite a feat for someone of his height.

                Dean sighs and goes to Sam’s side, “up, you lug. Go get some food in you then you can sleep for however long you want.”

                Sam makes a noise of consent and slowly extracts himself from the bed, slowly moving towards the carryout box and eats slowly, not even tasting the meal. It’s something semi-healthy, he determines, and throws the empty carton away before dragging his feet back to the bed. He flops down face first into the mattress, not ready for Dean’s questioning.

                “What did the dick _do_ to you?”

                Sam waves a hand around, “Had to use my energy to fix my leg. Didn’t want Heaven to know he was alive or something. I was supposed to call him when you came back.” He tries to grab his phone while still face-down in a pillow.

                Dean grabs the phone, “Nope, sorry Sammy, I’ll do it.”

                “I don’t know what name he put himself under. Probably something innuendo laced.” Dean snorts in amusement at the comment.

                “I’ll call him, you sleep, and when it gets to a decent hour I’ll wake you and tell you what happened. Sound good?”

                “Yeah.”

 

Surprisingly enough, the contact information for the archangel was under “Gabriel.” He hits the call button and Gabriel answers before the first ring.

                “Hey, Sam-a-lam! Did your brother finally finish doing unholy acts to mine?”

                Dean sputters, “It’s not Sam you ass.”

                “Sorry, Dean-o, not that I don’t like you but I was expecting your brother to call.”

                “Sam’s down for the count. Whatever you did exhausted him beyond anything.”  
                “Yeah, make sure to give him protein. Using the body’s own energy for major fixes like that take a lot outta you.”

                “Yeah, noted. Sam said he had to call you when Cas and I got back. Well, we’re back.”

                “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.” Dean rolls his eyes at the sarcasm, “just get your feathered ass over here.”

                “Yessir!” Gabriel ends the call and Dean turns to the sound of wings. The archangel is standing by Sam’s bed, hands on his hips.

                “Cassie, get over here.”

                Castiel follows the order, “I would appreciate it if you did not call me ‘Cassie’.”

                “Oh come on, brother! I’ve been calling you that for centuries!”

                “Yes, when I was a fledgling.”

                “And you’re still a bit too small for your wings, Castiel.”

                Castiel looks down, “what is it you need of me, Gabriel?”

                “Castiel, do you trust me?”

                “I do.”

                Gabriel puts his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, “this is me choosing a side in this war.” Gabriel pushes his grace to the front of his being, eliminating the warding that suppressed it for millennia. Castiel grits his teeth at the influx of foreign grace, but relaxes as Gabriel’s grace flows through him in a warm caress. He relaxes as the grace retreats, and looks at Gabriel in thanks.

                “What just happened?” Dean asks.

                “Gabriel has restored some of my grace through his, and in doing so has shown that he is alive and helping us.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day! New record! Anyway, I once again apologize for the shippy-ness that is in this chapter. I tried to keep the dialogue between Gabriel and Lucifer as close to the originl as possible, but I took some artistic license.

A woman sits on her bed, staring at the clock-it’s half past noon. Deciding it is past time to get dressed, she goes and opens her closet. She frowns at the collection of band tees and cut-off tops, reaching for a pastel dress. She glares at her reflection, clearly disliking the fact that she has to wear a dress instead of her pop-punk attire. Slipping the dress over her head, she runs her hand over the slight bump on her stomach. She sighs and moves to her vanity, sitting on the stool and grabbing various makeup products. She deftly applies the makeup, clearly having done so for years, before beginning to braid her long black hair.

                Finished with her routine, she stares into the mirror, subconsciously fiddling with the ring on her left ring finger. She jolts when there is a knock at the door. She stands and walks over to answer it. On the doorstep is a fairly tall man with golden hair and sparling green eyes. He hands her an envelope, “Delivery!”

                She takes it, “who is this from?”

                The man’s posture slumps, “who do you think?”

                Tears well up in the woman’s honey-gold eyes, “but it’s not, it’s not theirs! He has to be let off!”

                The deliveryman shrugs, “they’re just going to talk about how to handle it. I think even Odin knows by now it’s not Ragnarok. All the rest of us knew it was Judeo-Christian from the start. From what I’ve been told it’s a planning meeting.”

                “Will he be let go?”

                “Osiris made a compelling argument for his release. He should be back soon.”  
                The woman nearly collapses, slumping against the doorframe, “Oh thank Terra. Am I required to be at the meeting?”

                The man shakes his head, “they know you wouldn’t want to come anyway, the invitation is just a formality.” He grins and looks at her stomach, “any names yet?”

                “Remus for a male, Hjӧrdis for a female.”

                “Odin’s going to be so mad when he finds out.”

                “Odin can shove it up his ass, he has no control over me or him anymore.”

                The man laughs loudly, the echo making the birds in the tall trees of the surrounding forest fly off in surprise.

                “Only you would tell off the King of Asgard in such a way.”

                “Damn right. You see that?” She motions to the empty sky, “those are the fucks I give about Odin and his decrees about my mate.”

                “You have quite the way with words. Anyway, contact me first when the kid’s born! I _am_ the messenger after all.”

                “You will be the first to know, Hermes. I promise.”

                “Good. Well I better tell the others that you won’t be appearing at the Fantastic Gathering of Deities. Made the name up myself. Keep in touch.” Hermes looks into the woods, “give him an hour, okay? He should be back in an hour, and be careful-some forms of sex can harm the kid.”

                The woman smiles and pulls Hermes into a hug, “thank you for bringing me glad news, and I will repay you with some of my own when that times comes.”

                “So poetic, Lupa.”

Lupa releases the god from the hug, “I’m sure you have many important things to do still, but you’re always welcome here. You’re one of the few Fenrir and I can tolerate!” They both laugh and Hermes nods his goodbyes, Lupa closing the door after him.

  

* * *

 

 

                Gabriel looks around the lobby of the Elysium Fields Hotel. He sent the Winchesters out with Kali, but only because of the fact that she had the three of them in a blood spell. He stopped loving her a long time ago. He hopes that the two humans watch the video he gave them, it’ll probably be the only chance they have if he goes down. He gives Odin a final ‘good riddance’ before tuning in to what Lucifer is saying. He catches the end of a remark about ‘slumming’ and he wrinkles his nose in distaste.

                “Lucifer, you’re my brother, and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”

                Lucifer gapes at Gabriel, “ _What_ did you just say to me?”

                “Look at yourself!” Gabriel clenches his fists, “Boo-hoo, Daddy was mean to me so I’m going to smash up all his toys!”

                Lucifer snarls, “you watch your tone.”

                Gabriel walks forward, “Play the victim all you want. You and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best, more than Michael, more than me. Then He brought the new baby home and you couldn’t handle it.  This is all one big temper tantrum, time to grow up.”

                “If you’re doing this for Michael…”

                “Screw him! If Michael was here I’d shiv his ass too!”

                “You disloyal…” disappointment is evident in Lucifer’s eyes as he digests the information.

                “Oh, I’m loyal. To them.” To him.

                “To who? These so-called gods?”

                “To people, Lucifer. People.” Gabriel keeps slowly advancing as the conversation continues, angel blade still in hand.

                “So you’re willing to die for a pile of cockroaches. Why?”

                “Because Dad was right. They _are_ better than us.” A construct of Gabriel appears behind Lucifer, readying to strike.

                “They’re broken. Flawed! Abortions!”

                “Damn right they’re flawed. But a lot of them try,” he smiles slightly, “try to do better, to forgive.” His face hardens once more, “and you should try to see the Spearmint Rhino!” Gabriel sighs, “I’ve been riding the pine a long time, but I’m in the game now. And I’m not on your side, or Michael’s. I’m on theirs.” I’m on his.

                “Brother,” Lucifer warns, “don’t make me do this.”

                “No one makes us do anything.” Team Free Will, bitches.

                “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, Gabriel, but I know where your heart truly lies.” The construct of Gabriel lunges forward, only to be grabbed by Lucifer. He twists Gabriel’s arm and stabs him in the chest, “Here. Amateur hocus-pocus. Don’t forget, you learned all your trick from me, little brother.” He twists the sword and, with remorse in his eyes, kills Gabriel. The archangel’s body falls back in a burst of light, leaving the outline of three sets of wings in the floor of the hotel.  

 

* * *

 

 

Dean and Sam sit in the Impala, looking at the place where Kali was moments ago. She vanished in flames, but luckily left no burn to the seats.

                Sam turns to his brother, “We should go back.”

                Dean looks at his brother in confusion, “why?”

                Sam shrugs, “I just, I feel like it’s a good idea.”

                “Fine, okay, whatever. Put those puppy eyes away.” Dean turns the Impala around, heading back towards the hotel.

                When they arrive, Sam is the first inside. He stops dead in his tracks, hands shaking slightly at the sight in front of him. Dean follows soon after and joins Sam in staring at the carnage of Lucifer. Sam is the only one that speaks, “He died for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to keep myself sane, we are going to be jumping to major plot points, so next up is Swan Song. Obviously, I introduced Lupa for a reason, but that reason is not going to be announced yet. Thank you!


	12. Chapter 12

“You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” Dean rolls the shoulder that holds Castiel’s handprint and continues driving to Bobby’s place, clearing his throat to cover up any tightness in his voice, though if asked it was due to his brother taking the plunge into the Cage and not the sudden and goodbye-less disappearance of the angel. Bobby stays quiet the whole ride, sensing the tenseness in Dean’s form. Dean’s fingers tap rhythms on the steering wheel as he makes his way to Sioux Falls. Once there, he says his goodbyes to his father figure and leaves, about to make good on a promise to Sam he made what seems like so long ago.

                “Hey, Lisa.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

                Castiel enters Heaven, wings heavy on his back. The extra set added at his resurrection are clunky at best, and extremely bothersome. As Heaven’s “sheriff” as Dean put it, the extra two wings show that he was promoted. He hears yelling of in the distance and flies towards the disturbance.

                “No, Raphael! I haven’t worked with _any_ of you since my creation, so why would I now?” Castiel lands a fair distance away, just close enough to observe and listen. Raphael is speaking to another archangel who is also in a female form, taking the guise of a modern teenager, complete with a crop top and skirt.

                “But I cannot do this without you, Azrael.”  
                Azrael scoffs, “This is no plan. This is an ill thought out scheme born of grief. You are not the only one who lost a brother in this mistake.”

                “It was not a mistake!”

Azrael’s wings flare out, their iridescent blue-purple feathers almost painful to look upon due to the white of the walls behind her. Something within Castiel stirs at the sight, his grace rejoicing at a figure of vague memory and re-awakening bond. Raphael remains unfazed at the display.

                “It was a mistake, Raphael. Accept it. And your plan to fix the mistake? An even bigger one. It will start another war, and one was already too many.”

                “Michael would want us to finish it!”

                “No he would not. Michael never wanted this, Raphael! If he did, the vessels would not have been given as strong a bond as they had. Their familial bond rivaled that of Michael and Lucifer.” Azrael sighs, “We have already lost Michael to a sub-par plan. Do not let us lose you.”

                “For claiming to have lost Michael, you are not showing any signs of grief!” Raphael snaps

                “Of course I am, just not as much as you!” Sparks flare from the ceiling, and Castiel steps back though he is nowhere near the fighting archangels, he flares his wings in preparation for fleeing if the verbal argument does turn physical.

“Did you not love him? Are you a traitor like your mate?” Raphael snaps, making the other archangel growl and shift to a fighting stance.

“I was never as close to Michael as you were. He gave me my tasks and nothing more. None of you came to me, except Gabriel. I am saddened by the loss of Michael, truly I am, but how can I match your grief when most of my misery was caused by him!”

                “Michael separated me from my Twin, imprisoned my bond-mate! I have no regrets for not mourning like you.” She takes a deep breath, “but that is not the matter at hand. Raphael, what you are proposing, your plan, it’s madness. It will end in more deaths than necessary. Go, take as much time as you need. I can handle anything that comes in. Return when you have your wits about you.” She spins on her heels, skirt twirling around her. She leaves Raphael in the room, the door slamming closed behind her.  Once outside, she looks around the small city-like setting, eyes snapping towards Castiel as she feels the presence of his grace.

                “Hello, Twin.” She sighs and walks to meet him, “I assume you heard everything that occurred?”

                Castiel nods, “most of it.” Azrael sighs and puts her hands on his shoulders, “Castiel, I can’t take much more of Raphael’s shit.” Castiel’s wings circle around his twin, their shared grace humming due to their proximity, for angelic twins are bred of the same grace, much like human twins can be from the same egg.  

                “She wants to take over, but is not capable, and then tries to ask me to help! I just want to continue my duties as overseer of Death and the Reapers, and visit my bond-mate in his cell once a century!” Her voice breaks and she pulls closer, head in the crook of his neck as she sobs.

                “The plan is suicide and murder! I saw how it ends, I saw that it ends with Raphael’s death.” Castiel pulls her closer, more versed in physical affection.

                “I don’t want to help, Castiel.”

                “Then don’t.”

                “Gadreel,” her breath hitches, “Gadreel is being used as a bargaining chip. I agree, he gets released. I refuse, R-Raphael kills him.” Castiel breaks the hug and stares at his twin in shock.

                “That’s barbaric.”

                Azrael nods, “But I, I cannot risk it. We refused to sever the bond when he was imprisoned. It would kill us both.”  

                “Did you say so?”

                “How could I? Raphael is leagues above me, she can smite me with a thought! One move of insubordination and me, my mate, and my fledgling will be gone in seconds!” The archangel grabs Castiel’s forearms, “You have to help us escape. Me, Gadreel, and Akriel. Please, Castiel!”

                “I will talk to her, Azrael.”

                “No!” She grabs Castiel’s face, “do not. Raphael is not in her right mind. She will kill you, and anyone affiliated with you, without a thought!” Her hands move to his shoulders, “We can go to that park we always went to as fledglings. Have you seen Akriel yet? She has grown so much, you will barely be able to recognize her.”

                “Azrael…”

                “Castiel, I am seeing your deaths. And, I do not know which ones are going to be your last. You have been gone for so long, on Earth. And you were always gone with your garrison while in Heaven. Please, brother. Allow me to spend with you what little time we have together.”

                Castiel’s eyes soften, “of course.” Azrael puts her hand in his, “Well, come on then!” She laughs and pulls him away, away from the fuming Raphael. Castiel gives a small smile and allows himself to be dragged along, perhaps being the Sheriff of Heaven can wait. For now, he will spend time with his sister, his grace-mate, his Twin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

                Back on Earth, a figure stands beneath a streetlamp, watching the house Dean went into. The man, for the light gives only enough light to determine form and stature, turns away as if following a voice, leaving the suburban household behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have officially entered Season 6! As the semester comes to a close, I won't be able to update as often due to studies and work. Feel free to message me if you wish to be a Beta Reader or have a suggestion on where I should take my story. I truely do want your input.


	13. Chapter 13

Azrael clutches her blade, staring at the bodies surrounding her. It was another battle, one that no one knew of until the names passed her desk. This one made her suspicions of factions evident. Frowning, she opens her wings and flies off to report. On a whim, she makes a stop at Heaven’s armory, only to find many or the stored weapons missing. Her eyes narrow, but she decides to not mention this to Raphael as she takes off again.

                She lands in Raphael’s quarters, “I’m back.”

                “And? What did you find?”

                The littlest archangel shifts her weight, unsure whether or not to tell her unstable sibling about the uprisings.

                “Tell me.”

                “Factions. The angels are forming factions and fighting each other.”

                Raphael purses her lips, “Well, I guess we need to fight back, now don’t we?”

                Azrael openly gapes at her older sibling, “Raphael!”  
                “Order has been lost, and we need to take it back,” she smiles, “I will even let you be my second in command.”

                “I refuse.” In milliseconds, Azrael is held up by the throat against a wall.

                “R-Raphael! Sister!”

                “Sweet, baby archangel,” the elder coos, “if you do that, I’ll have to end you.”

                “Do it,” Azrael spits, “kill me.”

                Raphael lifts her higher, “Oh no. Not yet. First, I’ll make you watch me kill your Twin. Slowly. Next, your fledgling. Akriel, is it? Such a pretty name. I wonder what Akriel’s screams sound like. Begging for me to end it, begging for the one who molded the grace, for…mother.” Raphael hisses out the human term and Azrael chokes out a sob, writhing in her hold. Raphael continues, “But, the best for last, right? After the light leaves your pretty little fledgling’s eyes, and oh that would break you, it would be Gadreel that finishes you.”

                “D-Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt any of them, please! Just kill me!”

                “When he was tortured in the beginning, you felt that through your bond, yes?” Azrael whimpers, nodding.

                “I would be much, much worse. His pathetic existence will slowly fade, breaking you in ways even the worst torture couldn’t. And then,” she runs the hand not pinning Azrael to the wall through the smaller archangel’s hair, “and then I would kill you.” Azrael lets out another sob as she is dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

                “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me! I will do anything, just don’t hurt them!”  
                “Anything?”

                “Yes! Just don’t lay a hand on them!”

                “If you do what I say, you won’t have to worry about it.”

                Azrael looks up, “What do I have to do?”

                “Get Naomi, tell her I need to see her. Go find your Twin, tell him it is his move now. Then visit your mate, say your goodbyes, this may be the last you see him.”

                “I-I thought…”Azrael begins.

                “Oh, _I_ won’t hurt them.” With that, Raphael vanishes.

 

* * *

 

 

                Azrael does her first task quickly, leaving Naomi’s quarters wondering why she and Raphael have not yet mated. Finding Castiel is proving to be more of a challenge. She finally senses his grace on Earth and groans at the implications. Finding a vessel is not easy, and especially not for an archangel. She tries calling out to him, first through conventional means of angelic communication. She senses nothing from his end, until there is a faint pull on their grace-share-bond. She pushes against it, _Twin, you are needed in heaven_. She receives nothing in reply. _Castiel! I am your superior and will forcibly pull you out of your vessel so help me._ Faint amusement precedes her brother’s reply.

                _While the reactions of the humans around me would be amusing should you do that, I think it is best for the sanity of others that I am not unceremoniously pulled from my vessel, what was the term…oh yes, “kicking and screaming”._

_No promises for the next time you ignore my summons._

_Noted._

_Now get up here, I have something of import to tell you._

 

                Azrael turns at the sound of wings behind her and she steels herself before looking at her Twin.

Castiel stares at her, head tilted to the side, “What is the matter?” Azrael’s breath hitches, “Azrael?”

                “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. It’s a civil war, Castiel. Raphael wants it to be you and her. It is your move, Raphael told me.”

                “Why are you allying yourself with Raphael?” Castiel grits out.

                “Because I had no other choice.”

Azrael takes in a shuttering breath, “Raphael is amassing an army. Forced me to join. And no!” she snaps as Castiel opens his mouth, “I had no choice! She threatened to kill you, Akriel, Gadreel! And when she finds out that many of Heaven’s weapons are missing…”

                “Balthazar,” Castiel lets a small smile grace his features.

                “He too is hiding on Earth?”

                Castiel nods, “he is.” Azrael hums in acknowledgement as Castiel continues, “Balthazar has granted me access to their usage.”  
                “You will need all the help you can get, Castiel.”

                “I know.”

                “I will try to give you as much inside information as I can, too. I have one request in return.”

                “Of course.”  
                “Find a vessel for Akriel. I need her on Earth, away from battle.”

                Castiel bites his lip, a nervous tic he picked up from Dean, “I cannot…”

                “Castiel, the gender of the vessel matters not. Raphael is in a male host, yet has always been in a more feminine visage. Have you been with the humans so long as to think it matters?”

                Castiel shakes his head, “I cannot guarantee finding a vessel.”

                “Please, Castiel. Try.”

                “I will.”

                Azrael pulls the seraph into a tight embrace, her face in his neck. “Be safe. Raphael will be awaiting your actions. I can’t lose you.”

                “I know.” Azrael gives him a kiss on the temple and he disappears in a flutter. She sends up a prayer to an absent God that her Twin is safe before going to complete her final task.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Azrael, we are not expecting you for another decade.”

                Azrael shifts her weight under the gaze of the angel guarding the entrance to Gadreel’s cell, “Kemuel, brother, please.”

Kemuel frowns at the archangel, “why should I let you see him?”

                “Because I may not be alive come the turn of the decade. Raphael told me to say my goodbyes.”

                Kemuel’s eyes widen, “is Raphael…?”

                “Raphael is wishing to wage war against my Twin and has,” she pauses for a long moment, “ _convinced_ me to assist.”

                Kemuel grits his teeth, “Azrael, I don’t know if I can.”

                “On whose orders are you not allowing me to see my mate? Who ordered the century long time between visits?”

                “M-Michael’s.”

                “And is Michael here?”

                “No, but…”

                “No buts. Michael is in the Cage with Lucifer, he will not know if you disobey.” She turns away, back facing him, “do you have a mate, Kemuel?”

                “Inias, he agreed to be my mate a week ago.”

                Azrael smiles, even though the other angel would not see it, “Inias is strong, kind. You two will be good together.”

                “I hope so, but why do you ask?”

                “Imagine if our positions were switched: you are now me and Inias is Gadreel. You have just been told that you may not be able to ever see your mate again. So you go to the prison guard, and ask to be allowed to see him. The guard answers directly to Michael, who is no longer in Heaven or on Earth. What would you want the guard to do?”

                “I, yes. You may go in.”

                Azrael faces Kamuel again, “thank you, brother.”

                “Take as much time as you need, just don’t try to break him out.”

                “What good would that do, if I would not be here?”

                Kamuel nods and she looks him in the eye, “cherish the bond you and Inias will have. You never know when it may end. Blessings to you both.” With that, Kemuel moves to the side, allowing the archangel down the corridor to her mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be about the brothers, I swear! I just needed to set up Heaven a bit more, as we really don't get a good look of it in canon. Reviews help me improve!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, S6 is being a little bitch and not letting me rewrite it. It's a case!chapter, with special guest stars.

Dean lays in the motel bed, the events of the past few days finally sinking in.

                _“You almost killed me, you hit my son! I can’t live like this, get out.”_

_“Lisa, that, it wasn’t…”_

_“Get out, Winchester.”_

_“Li—“ Lisa slams the door, only to open it and throw some bags on the porch._

_“You never loved me anyway.”_

_Dean grabs his bags and gets into the Impala, going to try to find his brother after the whole vampire debacle. He frowns while driving, did he imagine Sam standing by as he was turned into a vampire? He had to have, there was no way…or was there? Sam has been acting off since they reunited._

Dean sighs and puts an arm over his head, looking over to where Sam was in his own bed. He still hasn’t come clean to how he got out, if he even knows.

 

                Dean wakes to Sam on his laptop, nothing new, the kid was always getting up before him anyway.

                “Mornin’ Sammy.”

                “Morning, Dean. Breakfast’s on the table.” Dean grunts a response, sitting up slowly before going about his morning routine. He wanders over to Sam, eating a breakfast burrito.

                “Anything good?”

                Sam shrugs, “I think I got us a hunt. Listen to this. Calumet City, Illinois. We have a series of suicides after some pretty ugly truths have been spilled about the victims. It’s not too far away, we can go check it out.”

                Dean looks at him questioningly, “Thought you didn’t like suicide cases.”

                “I don’t, but we haven’t had a case in a couple weeks, since the vampire incident. And like I said, we’re probably the closest.”

                “Alright, fine. Lemme get ready.” _Maybe now I’ll have the chance to ask him about what really happened with the vampires_ , Dean thinks.

 

* * *

 

 

                Somewhere deep in the Kettle Moraine State Forest of Wisconsin is a house. Sometimes one can hear voices coming from it, but ask anyone who has ever been near this house and they will tell you you’re crazy. However, there is a house in the forest, inhabited by two pagan deities and their child. The house is covered in runes and sigils, causing confusion and an intense need to go back to the main path. Hunters in the area call it an urban legend, nothing to check out.

                “Hjӧrdis!" A giggle can be heard from inside the house, as a mother chases her daughter around.

                “Fen! Help me!” She calls, and the male laughs and shakes his head.

                “She’s not even a year, Lupa. How much trouble can she get into?” The woman, now re-identified as Lupa, looks up from tickling her daughter.

                “She is the daughter of the two Great Wolves, Fenrir. She is a huntress, through and through.” Hjӧrdis bites Lupa’s hand, growling a little. Lupa growls playfully back at her daughter, eyes shining the golden hue of her wolf form. A thump on the porch of the house startles all three.

                Fenrir is the one to go check. He comes back with a stack of papers, “Mail’s here.”  Lupa picks up Hjӧrdis and carries her on her hip, “Anything interesting?”

                Fenrir places the mail on a table, “Let’s see…so far nothing really interesting.” He paused as he read a flyer, “Hey, Lu?”

                “Yes?”

                “You said you used to run with a Truth-Teller, right?”

                “Yes…what does that have to do with anything?”

                “C’mere and see this.”

                Lupa reads the flyer over his shoulder, “Yeah that sounds like her. Where is this happening?”

                “Calumet City.”

                She sucks in a breath, “That’s a little too close for comfort. Especially since she’ll be drawing in hunters. We don’t want to get on their radar.”

                Fenrir tilts his head, “What are you going to do? We could always add more wards…”

                Lupa shakes her head, “No, I will need to confront her. Even extreme warding will not keep out a seasoned hunter for long. Normally I would say we move but…” she looks over at Hjӧrdis, “We have a family now.”

                “Alone?”

                “I have to be, I’m the only one who is immune to the truth spell she uses. If I must I can lure the hunters to her.” She looks around the clearing, “Will you be alright without me for a few days?”

                Fenrir pulls her close by the arm, “We’ll be fine. You just be safe, okay?” She nodded into the hug, pressing a kiss to his neck, “Always.”

 

* * *

 

 

                It took a few days for the Winchesters to figure out who, or what, they were dealing with. The answer came in the form of Veritas, Roman goddess of truth. They end up being captured by her, a common occurrence, and are listening to her rant about truth and its ugliness. She stops and stares at the two, “What are your names?”

                “Dean Winchester,” Dean answers, almost automatically.

                “Sam Winchester,” Sam responds at the same time.

                Veritas tuts and moves towards Sam, “You’re lying. How can you lie? It’s impossible. I have the strongest truth spells known to anyone.”

                Dean gapes at his younger brother, if he could get passed the spell, was he even telling the truth when questioned about the vampires?

                _Maybe he didn’t know he could do that_ , he tries to reason as unease settled in his gut.

                “Perhaps he, too, built up an immunity, Veritas.” The goddess in question twirls around and opens her arms, “Lupa! It has been too long!”

                The Winchesters gape at the other woman who entered, she looked nothing like a wolf goddess with her triple pierced ears and ripped jeans.

                “Veritas, it has been a long time. Then again, it was you who decided to leave.” She shrugs and walks in, her stride the only thing betraying her status as a deity.

                “Only _AFTER_ you got with that mutt,” Veritas snaps, moving closer to the shorter goddess.

                “No, after I reprimanded you because you were using your powers to _break up our group_! You wanted to be leader, so you tried to influence everyone!” A bronze sword slips out of Lupa’s sleeve, “And now you’re here, why?”

                Veritas laughs, “Because I heard you and World Ender were living nearby, wanted to finish up my centuries old business.

                Lupa’s grip tightens on the sword, “Don’t you _dare_ talk about my mate like that.”

                “What, are you going to kill me?”

                Lupa looks over at the Winchesters, and finds them finishing getting out of their bonds, “No.” She states, “They are.” She sidesteps as a stake protrudes from Veritas’s heart. The goddess crumbles into dust, blowing away with a breeze.

                “Thank you,” Lupa tells them, hands in her pockets, “I wouldn’t have been able to kill her. She was my best friend for centuries.”

                Dean huffs and points a stake at her, “Give me one good reason to not gank you too.”

                Lupa puts her hands up, “I have killed no one, I run and hunt in the forests. I was only here because Veritas got too close to my home, to my family. Please don’t kill me, I have a mate and child!” Dean drops the stake, “Fine, but go before I change my mind.” As the wolf goddess leaves, Dean turns to Sam.

                “Sam what the fuck!? Were you lying to me about the vampire thing? Did you really ‘freeze up’ or did you let it happen?”

                Sam shrugs, “Fine, I was lying. I let you get turned because I knew about the cure.”

                “Don’t you feel _any_ sort of remorse?”

                Another shrug from the younger Winchester, “Don’t give a shit. Actually…” He pauses, “Don’t give a shit about much nowadays anyway.” With that, Dean throws a punch at Sam’s face, followed by another, and a kick for good measure until his little brother is lying prone on the ground, passed out.

 

* * *

 

                Castiel stares at Sam, “I don’t understand why you called me here, Dean.”

                Dean waves a hand, “Tell him, Sam.”

                Sam sighs, not wanting to go through this again, “I can’t sleep, and feeling anything emotion wise. Not that it’s _bothering_ me per-say…” Dean glares at him as Castiel walks closer.

                “Depression is not an uncommon ailment in humans, especially with your lifestyle. And from what I recall, these are symptoms.” Cas holds out a hand, “May I?”

                “Yeah, sure, whatever.” The angel places a hand on Sam’s forehead, and before long gasps and steps back.

                Dean is on him like a hound, “Well? What’s wrong?”

                Castiel stares at Sam, eyes wide in shock, “His soul. It’s gone. Sam has no soul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we have Soulless!Sam confirmed! Next up is the whole Alpha shebang and Eve, lord knows when this will happen though.


End file.
